Manfred, a dramatic poem/Act 2 Scene 4

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SCENE IV

The Hall of Arimanes—Arimanes on his Throne, a Globe
of Fire, surrounded by the Spirits.

Hymn of the Spirits.Hail to our Master!—Prince of Earth and Air!—Who walks the clouds and waters—in his handThe sceptre of the elements, which tearThemselves to chaos at his high command! ​He breatheth—and a tempest shakes the sea;He speaketh—and the clouds reply in thunder;He gazeth—from his glance the sunbeams flee;He moveth—earthquakes rend the world asunder.Beneath his footsteps the volcanoes rise;His shadow is the Pestilence; his pathThe comets herald through the crackling skies;And planets turn to ashes at his wrath.To him War offers daily sacrifice;To him Death pays his tribute; Life is his,With all its infinite of agonies—And his the spirit of whatever is!
Enter the Destinies and Nemesis. First Des. Glory to Arimanes! on the earthHis power increaseth—both my sisters didHis bidding, nor did I neglect my duty!
 Second Des. Glory to Arimanes! we who bowThe necks of men, bow down before his throne!
 Third Des. Glory to Arimanes!—we await His nod!
 Nem. Sovereign of Sovereigns! we are thine,And all that liveth, more or less, is ours,And most things wholly so; still to increaseOur power increasing thine, demands our care, ​And we are vigilant—Thy late commandsHave been fulfill'd to the utmost.
Enter Manfred.
 A Spirit.What is here?A mortal!—Thou most rash and fatal wretch,Bow down and worship!
 Second Spirit.I do know the man—A Magian of great power, and fearful skill!
 Third Spirit. Bow down and worship, slave!—What, know'st thou notThine and our Sovereign?—Tremble, and obey!
 All the Spirits. Prostrate thyself, and thy condemned clay,Child of the Earth! or dread the worst.
 Man.I know it;And yet ye see I kneel not.
 Fourth Spirit.'Twill be taught thee.
 Man. 'Tis taught already,—many a night on the earth,On the bare ground, have I bow'd down my face,And strew'd my head with ashes; I have knownThe fulness of humiliation, forI sunk before my vain despair, and kneltTo my own desolation.
 Fifth Spirit.Dost thou dare ​Refuse to Arimanes on his throneWhat the whole earth accords, beholding notThe terror of his Glory—Crouch! I say.
 Man. Bid him bow down to that which is above him,The overruling Infinite—the MakerWho made him not for worship—let him kneel,And we will kneel together.
 The Spirits.Crush the worm!Tear him in pieces!—
 First Des.Hence! Avaunt!—he's mine.Prince of the Powers invisible! This manIs of no common order, as his portAnd presence here denote. His sufferingsHave been of an immortal nature, likeOur own; his knowledge and his powers and will,As far as is compatible with clay,Which clogs the ethereal essence, have been suchAs clay hath seldom borne; his aspirationsHave been beyond the dwellers of the earth,And they have only taught him what we know—That knowledge is not happiness, and scienceBut an exchange of ignorance for thatWhich is another kind of ignorance.This is not all—the passions, attributes ​Of earth and heaven, from which no power, nor being,Nor breath from the worm upwards is exempt,Have pierced his heart; and in their consequenceMade him a thing, which I, who pity not,Yet pardon those who pity. He is mine,And thine, it may be—be it so, or not,No other Spirit in this region hathA soul like his—or power upon his soul.
 Nem. What doth he here then?
 First Des.Let him answer that.
 Man. Ye know what I have known; and without powerI could not be amongst ye: but there arePowers deeper still beyond—I come in questOf such, to answer unto what I seek.
 Nem. What wouldst thou?
 Man.Thou canst not reply to me.Call up the dead—my question is for them.
 Nemesis. Great Arimanes, doth thy will avouchThe wishes of this mortal?
 Ari.Yea.
 Nem.Whom would'st thouUncharnel?
 Man.One without a tomb—call up Astarte.
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Nemesis.Shadow! or Spirit!Whatever thou art,Which still doth inheritThe whole or a partOf the form of thy birth,Of the mould of thy clayWhich returned to the earth, Re-appear to the day!Bear what thou borest,The heart and the form,And the aspect thou worestRedeem from the worm.Appear!—Appear!—Appear!Who sent thee there requires thee here!(The Phantom of Astarte rises and stands
in the midst.)
 Man. Can this be death? there's bloom upon her cheek;But now I see it is no living hue,But a strange hectic—like the unnatural redWhich Autumn plants upon the perish'd leaf.It is the same! Oh, God! that I should dreadTo look upon the same—Astarte!—No, ​I cannot speak to her—but bid her speak—Forgive me or condemn me.
Nemesis.By the power which hath brokenThe grave which enthrall'd thee,Speak to him who hath spoken,Or those who have call'd thee!
 Man.She is silent,And in that silence I am more than answered.
 Nem. My power extends no further. Prince of air! It rests with thee alone—command her voice.
 Ari. Spirit—obey this sceptre!
 Nem.Silent still!She is not of our order, but belongsTo the other powers. Mortal! thy quest is vain,And we are baffled also.
 Man.Hear me, hear me—Astarte! my beloved! speak to me:I have so much endured—so much endure—Look on me! the grave hath not changed thee moreThan I am changed for thee. Thou lovedst meToo much, as I loved thee: we were not made ​To torture thus each other, though it wereThe deadliest sin to love as we have loved.Say that thou loath'st me not—that I do bearThis punishment for both—that thou wilt beOne of the blessed—and that I shall die,For hitherto all hateful things conspireTo bind me in existence—in a lifeWhich makes me shrink from immortality—A future like the past. I cannot rest.I know not what I ask, nor what I seek:I feel but what thou art—and what I am;And I would hear yet once before I perishThe voice which was my music—Speak to me!For I haye call'd on thee in the still night,Startled the slumbering birds from the hush'd boughs,And woke the mountain wolves, and made the cavesAcquainted with thy vainly echoed name,Which answered me—many things answered me—Spirits and men—but thou wert silent all.Yet speak to me! I have outwatch'd the stars,And gazed o'er heaven in vain in search of thee.Speak to me! I have wandered o'er the earthAnd never found thy likeness—Speak to me!Look on the fiends around—they feel for me: ​I fear them not, and feel for thee alone—Speak to me! though it be in wrath;— but say—I reck not what— but let me hear thee once—This once— once more!
 Phantom of Astarte. Manfred!
 Man.Say on, say on—I live but in the sound—it is thy voice!
Phan. Manfred! To-morrow ends thine earthly ills.Farewell!
 Man. Yet one word more—am I forgiven?
Phan. Farewell!
 Man.Say, shall we meet again?
Phan. Farewell!
 Man. One word for mercy! Say, thou lovest me.
[The Spirit of Astarte disappears.Phan. Manfred!
 Nem.She's gone, and will not be recall'd;Her words will be fulfill'd. Return to the earth.
 A Spirit. He is convulsed—This is to be a mortalAnd seek the things beyond mortality.
 Another Spirit. Yet, see, he mastereth himself, and makesHis torture tributary to his will.Had he been one of us, he would have madeAn awful spirit.
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 Nem.Hast thou further questionOf our great sovereign, or his worshippers?
 Man. None.
 Nemesis.Then for a time farewell.
 Man. We meet then! Where? On the earth?—Even as thou wilt: and for the grace accorded[Exit Manfred.I now depart a debtor. Fare ye well!
(Scene closes).

End of Act Second.

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